


here until you make me move

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mandalore, Obi-Wan Leaves The Jedi Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: The Duchess wouldn’t risk the pain of his refusal, nor subject him to offering to sacrifice his own future, forsaking his people and their ways.





	here until you make me move

**Author's Note:**

> A few months ago I heard "Hanging by a Moment" by Lifehouse on the radio and was one, thrown back a good few years to when that song was inescapable, and struck by massive Obitine feels. This is the result.
> 
> Mando'a in the endnotes

She wouldn’t ask, Obi-Wan realized with sudden clarity. The Duchess wouldn’t risk the pain of his refusal, nor subject him to offering to sacrifice his own future, forsaking his people and their ways. But there was no sacrifice. He would always be a Jedi, he had learned that lesson by trial and fire over the years. Even when all hope seemed lost, he would be a Jedi, and act as a Jedi. But the Order was not what made him a Jedi. He was a Jedi because he was himself. And he would not be himself without also loving her.

Turning, Obi-Wan met Satine’s eyes across the expanse of her austere audience hall. That clear blue gaze was more hesitant than it had ever been before. With long, sure strides, Obi-Wan crossed the distance to her, and with each step her expression grew more hopeful, more disbelieving. At the foot of her stepped throne, Obi-Wan went to his knees. He unclipped his ‘saber, the weapon she so loathed, and without looking, used the Force to unmake it as it rested on the open palm of his hand, floating the glittering kyber crystal at its heart up to her.

“There's nothing in the galaxy that can change my mind,” Obi-Wan said firmly, holding her gaze with his. “Ner Mand’alor, ner kar’ta, ner runi.” 

“Obi-Wan,” Satine began, her voice trembling. She paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I could not ask,” she began again.

“Then don’t ask,” Obi-Wan cut in. “There’s no need to ask. I have already offered. There is _nothing_ in the galaxy that can change my mind, save you telling me that you do not feel the same, that there is no place for me here.” Satine swallowed again. They both knew that either of those sentences would be lies from her lips. 

“Ner Jetii,” Satine acknowledged fondly, and plucked the softly glowing kyber from there it hovered at chest level in front of her, cradling the crystal against her heart. Obi-Wan grinned, then rose, the dismantled casing and workings of his lightsaber clattering to the marble floor as he embraced his beloved. He kissed her, soft but fervent, bringing his hands up to cup her jaw. 

“I will always be a Jedi, and I will always love you,” Obi-Wan promised. “But I can be a Jedi here, away from the Order, and love you much better than I could from half a galaxy away.” Satine nodded, a broad smile breaking across her face even as tears welled up in her eyes. He kissed her again, softer, watching her face this time, the flutter of her pale lashes, the flush of her cheeks. 

“We will make many enemies,” Satine warned.

“And many allies,” Obi-Wan countered, and Satine smiled wryly. 

“Is everything an argument with you?” Satine asked, and Obi-Wan just grinned, because they both knew the answer to _that_. Feeling his Master approach, Obi-Wan turned, unconsciously straightening his shoulders. Satine’s hand slipped into his, and she stepped down to stand at his side, a united front. 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon started, the worry clear in the creases of his forehead and the downward turn of his mouth. 

“I know it will be work,” Obi-Wan cut in. “I am sorry if I disappoint you Master, but my place is here, at Satine’s side. I have thought of little else but this for some time. I am resolved. I will live as you trained me, as a Jedi, even though officially I will no longer claim the Order’s protection. To do otherwise would be - a betrayal of not only myself, but your tutelage.” Qui-Gon’s face fell, but he nodded, stepping forward to embrace both of them. 

“You brave, brave boy,” Qui-Gon choked out, and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s head. Reaching up, he gently stroked the neatly plaited Padawan braid behind Obi-Wan’s ear. 

“And you will always be welcome on Manda’yaim, ner ver’gebuir,” Satine promised. 

Qui-Gon nodded, then turned back to his Padawan, stepping back to properly look at Obi-Wan. A young man of 20 years, too thin after their long months of privation, his hair grown into a shaggy red-gold mess nothing like the neat Padawan crop he’d sported a year before. The changes had been slow, but his student had grown up somewhere in there, had decided his own path forward. 

“I am so proud of you Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said gently. Grasping the braid at the root, he reached out, gently severing the plait. 

“Keep it,” Obi-Wan urged. “I know it isn’t the same as if you’d Knighted me, but it has been an honour, a privilege, and a pleasure to be your student.” Qui-Gon nodded, his own eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “We will meet again,” Obi-Wan promised, and Qui-Gon nodded, then turned and strode off, unable to stand there a moment longer without weeping. 

Satine leaned into Obi-Wan, hugging him around the waist. Obi-Wan leaned into her reciprocally, grateful for her unspoken support. He had known that making this decision would hurt his Master, and while that was the last thing Obi-Wan wanted, he could make no other decision. He tried to imagine doing the opposite, bidding Satine goodbye and boarding the transport back to Coruscant at his Master’s side, and his mind simply couldn’t conjure the image. He loved Qui-Gon, but he could not be without Satine.

“You will need to find a place for me,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“We need to learn how to live together in peace,” Satine agreed with a nod. 

“I would act still as your protector, if you would permit me.”

“You will need this then,” Satine said, holding out the crystal she had still clasped to her chest. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “That is yours now. A small shard of my soul given into your keeping. If I need a weapon, I will satisfy myself with whatever your other guards are issued. I cannot in good conscience carry a Jedi’s weapon.” Satine smiled, looking back down at the crystal, rolling it in her palm so it caught the light. 

“It is a beautiful soul,” Satine said, and Obi-Wan’s cheeks heated. Satine leaned in, and kissed him. “Ner cabur.” Obi-Wan kissed back happily, and in the morning was fitted with a guard’s uniform, simple and workmanlike beskar’gam, rather than the more ornamental garb of the palace guard.

They had been in Sundari for a few months by then, protecting Satine as she fit herself into the political scene there, meeting allies new and old. Obi-Wan had been at her side throughout, and he remained so once Qui-Gon left, only he traded his beige Jedi tunics for the muted blues of House Kryze on the plates of his new beskar’gam. Satine’s allies noted the shift, but didn’t comment in Obi-Wan’s hearing. Her detractors too remained quiet, although they seemed a bit more willing to talk of forming a government and uniting their people now that Satine had ‘stolen’ a Jedi and wrapped him in Mandalorian steel. 

Satine and Obi-Wan spent their time off the clock negotiating too. 

Obi-Wan had lived a very structured life in some respects, but also a very itinerant one. As a child, he had been constantly learning on a rigorous schedule. As an adolescent, he’d been applying those lessons and learning one on one from Master Qui-Gon while travelling throughout the galaxy from one crisis to the next. Since he’d turned thirteen, Obi-Wan hadn’t lived in a single place for more than a few months at a time, and even then he’d always known he would eventually leave on another mission.

Satine’s childhood had been less sheltered in many ways, her people having been embroiled in war since time immemorial. Like Obi-Wan, she’d been trained rigourously from a young age, but with far less emphasis in those years on languages and diplomacy and philosophy. As an adolescent, she’d been sent into exile. Just as Obi-Wan was embarking on his career away from Coruscant, Satine had taken up residence at an elite academy there, and there had remained until the murder of her elder brother, the previous heir apparent to the Sundari throne. 

Now, they had to find a way to live and work together, create a life together. They had to find a way to lead Satine’s war-scarred people into the future.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Mando’a:**  
>  Ner Mand’alor, ner kar’ta, ner runi = my leader, my heart, my soul  
> Ner Jetii = my Jedi  
> Manda’yaim = Mandalore (specifically, the planet)  
> ner ver’gebuir = my bodyguard  
> Ner cabur = my guardian
> 
> i'm on tumblr, dreamwidth, and pillowfort as wrennette, feel free to come say hi


End file.
